The nurse took the CNA’s hand. “It’s basically a big, strong magnet,” she said. “It will stop the defibrillator from shocking him and restarting his heart.”
Aubrey felt her chest grow numb, and her arms and legs suddenly chilled. “Why the hell does he need something like that?” she whispered almost inaudibly.

(Author's note: Chapter 3 was posted last night near midnight. I'm posting Chapter 4 now, about 5pm. Be sure you've read chapter 3 first; because when I post this one [Chap. 4] then Chap. 3 will disappear from the front page. Sorry for any confusion! **Sigh**)

Wow. I’m far from the biggest built girl here — and I wasn’t even born a girl.

Aubrey looked around the room. She and the others were waiting to be introduced to their course administrator. All of them were there to become CNA’s, certified nurse’s aides. Two of the others present were male, but the other thirty or so were female. They were women of all sizes, but the majority (it seemed) were tall and big framed. Not illogical, since much of the work they were applying for would involve lifting and turning other human beings. Some of the patients were bound to be big and heavy, so the work might come easier for a “Helga” than a “Twiggy”. Still, it relieved Aubrey to see that she might actually pass for a woman a little easier than expected in this crowd.

One of Grant’s unexpected gifts to her was her impending official name change to Aubrey Johnson. She’d still be listed as male until she got approval from her therapy, but at least she could use her female name and not be accused of misrepresenting herself. He had called in a favor owed by one of his lawyer friends, and the papers were expected within weeks. In time for her CNA certificate to read “Aubrey”.

In walked an older lady with an authoritative air. “Hello, students. My name is Mrs. Stoltz.”

~o~O~o~

“Hello. My name is Sharon, and I am a compulsive sex addict.”

It was a statement that would have sounded comical to Aubrey even a week ago. She was listening to the meeting leader at the SA — “Sexaholics Anonymous” — gathering. This was the one part of her three-month project that she felt was humiliating and unnecessary. At least, she felt that way until last night.

Cloud nine. That’s how high Aubrey’s spirits were on a date with Mike, one of the two men in her CNA class. His invitation to go for a coffee after training that day was unexpected and flattering; as far as she knew, he was unaware of her “trans” status. Their time together was perfect, until he drove her home and said he wanted to get to know her better.

Why had she taken that as a cue that he wanted sex? Before she knew it, she was going down on him in the car. She could still see his face afterwards — more embarrassed awkwardness than enjoyment. “Wow … I really wasn’t expecting that,” was all he said. No “thanks,” or “that was great,” or “when can I see you again.” Not even a goodbye. He just drove off slowly as she ran red-faced to her apartment door.

Once inside, she reviewed what happened. She realized with disdain that during their date she’d been fantasizing more about his possible penis size than his engaging personality. I guess I really am screwed up when it comes to sex. So she looked through Carlotta’s handouts and found the one for SA.

After the meeting adjourned, Aubrey approached Sharon. “Out of all the folks who spoke tonight, you’re the one whose past I identify with the most — and whose present I want to have in my future. How do I get what you’ve got, and can you help me get it?”

Sharon sighed. “I don’t know that I have time to ‘sponsor’ another person in our program right now —” Then she saw the pleading earnestness, the desperate need in Aubrey’s eyes. She could not turn away someone who was so willing to fight to get better. “Okay, kid. Here’s my phone number. Buy the two big books on the table, and call me tonight with a pen and paper at the ready. I’ll hold out 9 to 9:30 for you; ring me promptly at 9.” We’ll find out how serious she is; let’s see if she can follow that basic instruction.

Aubrey didn’t disappoint.

~o~O~o~

Two women, one middle-aged and one young transitioning girl, sat at a Starbucks.

“Well, my little sponsee. You’ve made quite a lot of progress in working through the assignments I’ve given you. Journalling, reading, phone calls, meeting attendance — I saw that you were serious about recovery from that first night we met. And now you have your 30 day abstinence button.”

“Thank you so much, Sharon. I’ve loved being your ‘sponsee’ — is that even a word? You’ve taught me so much. I was pretty relieved to hear that being “abstinent” doesn’t mean being a nun the rest of my life; just abstaining from casual sex. Do you think I’ve recovered enough that I can start accepting dates now?”

Sharon didn’t answer, but rather perked her head up with wide eyes. “Oh … my … god. That guy who just came in. What a hottie-hot! Behind you to your right, girlfriend.”

Aubrey turned discreetly. Yes indeed, that boy was a stud. His six pack could be seen through his tight t-shirt, and he had nice bulging arm muscles with just enough face stubble to look cute. Scratch that, smoking hot. I’ll bet he could go for hours in the sack. I wonder how big…

“Are you thinking about his penis about now, honey?” Sharon’s low voice broke up the young one’s fantasizing.

“Oh, God,” blushed Aubrey. “And I went there so quickly. I — I haven’t made a bit of progress, have I? Am I ever going to get beyond throwing myself at every guy who takes me out for a coffee?”

“Thirty days is a good start, but remember you had two years of loveless physical intimacy with hundreds of different partners. ‘Aubrey’ is surfacing, but you’ve still just barely stopped being ‘Bambi’. It’s going to take time, not to mention a lot more work, to stop thinking that way. But don’t worry — you’ve been very committed so far. Just don’t slack up, and I see you having healthy love in your life as a definite possibility for the future.”

“I hate my ‘Bambi’ persona. Being horny is not a huge problem yet, as I’ve been avoiding dating; my life is so full of other things at the moment,” said Aubrey, remembering all the things she yet had to do today to fulfill Carlotta’s requirements of her. “I’m a little worried of how I’m going to react when I do start dating again, though.”

Sharon nodded. “A relationship built on friendship that builds into commitment is then ready for sex, in my opinion — at least for addicts like us. But you have to care for and nurture the relationship carefully to bring it to that point. Kind of like caring for a plant. So that’s my gift to you for your 30 day point. A plant. Take care of the plant like you would a relationship, say for about 6 months. You keep this plant alive for that long, and I’ll know you have the discipline to do that with a loving relationship. As your sponsor, I’m requesting you remain abstinent and continue working this program full swing until you prove that, by showing this plant to me healthy and intact, in September.”

Okay. I can do six months of abstinence; she’s right, I’ve had enough cheap sex to cover a hundred lifetimes. And I’ve heard of sponsors giving their charges ivy plants for this purpose. An ivy plant shouldn’t be too hard to keep alive, right? I see those everywhere, Aubrey mused.

Then her jaw went slack as Sharon unboxed a small tree onto the table.

A bonsai tree.

“These suckers are super sensitive. Can’t overwater or underwater them, or they’ll die. Gotta get the right amount of sunlight. Feed, but don’t dare overfeed. Bonsais don’t usually do well in the dry Phoenix climate. This will be a challenge for you, girl. Let’s see how nurturing you really are.”

“You’re sadistic,” replied a narrow-eyed Aubrey.

“Don’cha know,” chortled Sharon.

~o~O~o~

Mrs. Stoltz made it a point to personally observe all of the CNA students in the program multiple times during their training. As usual, a few were bad apples; she tossed them from the basket within the first month. Most of the rest were competent, and a few were outstanding. One in particular seemed to rise above the rest: Aubrey Johnson.

That girl — well, transitioning girl; she was aware of Aubrey’s status — had everything a great aide needed, and more. She soaked up knowledge and instruction, and asked intelligent questions. If it was taught once, Aubrey had it down. Her technique with patients was flawless, and she had a natural way of putting them at ease — crucial, for someone who was going to see them naked. But Aubrey treated the elderly and infirm as real people with real feelings, not as old farts with body odor and bad memory. Patient Hastings wasn’t a crotchety oldster; he was a Korean War hero, and Purple Heart recipient. Aubrey treated and addressed him as such.

Patient Maya Gutierrez was demented to the point where she could not speak or even move her twisted, contracted limbs; yet Aubrey recognized her as a mother to eleven, grandmother to twenty, great-grandmother to thirty-seven. She even called Maya “Mi Mamacita” as she carefully washed her personal areas. The pattern was repeated with each patient, from the loveable to the spiteful. As a result, many patients were clamoring for this girl to be their main aide as soon as she graduated.

However, Mrs. Stoltz had another idea for her superstar pupil, if Aubrey was willing. And now, with one week until certificates, it was time to disclose it. That’s why the student was now sitting in her office at her personal request.

“Aubrey Johnson. An aide-in-training like you comes along only once every couple of years. You are a plum of a student … and you deserve a plum of a job.” She punched on her desk computer. “This is a position that has opened up for a full time, live-in aide. This request has been sent discreetly to only the top CNA employers in the state. They have not asked any of the training programs; I found out about the request through my friend who operates her agency here in Phoenix.

“They are looking for the whole package: Smart, caring, energetic, discreet, and trustworthy. That is you in a nutshell, student. Your lack of work experience is trumped by your other qualities, and I would be happy to vouch for that fact in a letter. To have one of our graduates working for one of the most prestigious lawyers in the state would be quite a feather in our cap.”

“Lawyer?” That word grabbed Aubrey’s attention.

“Oops; speaking of discrete, I think that bit of information was to be kept private, unless you applied for the job.”

“Does he by any chance live in Flagstaff?” she whispered, wide-eyed.

Mrs. Stoltz’s eyes narrowed. “Did you get wind of this offer already? How?”

“Oh, my God,” said Aubrey, hand covering her mouth. “Grant Brisbane!”

~o~O~o~

Carlotta Brando was concerned. “I don’t like it. If you want the job, just fax the application in. This ‘showing up at the door’ business is too brazen, if you ask me.”

“Think about it,” replied Aubrey. “Once they read my name on the application, they will throw it in the trash. They won’t read any further. This way, I get an audience with him — or at least with Jace.”

“Hm. I suppose. You’ll still need a lot of pluck to pull this off. And Jace can be quite intimidating.”

“Carlotta — can’t you come with me? It would help.”

“Conflict of interest, child. You indeed are my protégé, but he is my employer, at least where you’re concerned. No, I think this is your time to fly, baby eagle. I just worry you’ve chosen to fly into a mighty gale.”

Aubrey straightened her blouse and slacks. “How do I look?”

“You’re starting to show some curves,” Carlotta smiled. “Losing fifteen pounds has really helped. My, how far you’ve come in 3 short months. You’ve fulfilled every point of the project I’ve set before you. I’m so proud of you. If they say no to your proposal, you have multiple job offers waiting for you back here in Phoenix, and I’ll help you with turning the lease and utilities over to your name.”

“And my bonsai? I have to keep it healthy.”

“As soon as you call me that you’ve truly got the job, I’ll ship it to you overnight. I know an exotic plant nursery here who assured me they could accomplish that safely.”

“Thank you, Carlotta. You’ve been more than a mentor — you’ve been a true friend, the first one I’ve had since high school. Thank you for cheering me on.”

“Ah-ah, I’m your life coach, not cheerleader.”

“Okay, coach. How about a pep talk before I jump into the game?”

Carlotta came close and whispered some words into Aubrey’s ear. The young girl nodded her head vigorously. “Right. Great advice! Goodbye, my mentor/friend/coach! I love you!”

The businesswoman misted in her eyes as her disciple snapped on her helmet, hopped on her scooter and rode away. “Goodbye, my most rewarding pupil. Despite my attempts to remain purely professional, I love you too.” She rounded and walked toward her BMW. Stopping just short of the door, she turned back to look wistfully at Aubrey puttering into the distance. Her fists were clenched, and she was shaking.

“Oh, fiddlesticks. I can cheer if I want to. GIVE ‘EM HELL, AUBREY!”

~o~O~o~

A tall, walking brick of a man knocked on a bedroom door.

“Boss? It’s me, Jace. I’m coming in.”

The bodyguard walked over to his employer’s bed. The figure in it looked weak. He seemed to be weakening every day, except for an occasional good one. His wan face forced a smile. “How are you, my friend?”

“I’m fine. Jeez, boss, I’m supposed to be asking you that question. How’s the breathing? Any angina spells?”

“I’m having a so-so day, Jace. What brings you here right now?”

“Just letting you know I’ve narrowed down the applicants for the live-in aide. There are three outstanding candidates — and a fourth that sounds terrific, if I knew who she was. She wants to apply ‘in person’ with an interview, and her fax says she’ll be arriving at 3. That’s kind of a grandstand play, if you ask me. I plan to refuse her.”

“So — of the three remaining, have you chosen?”

“They all sound great. I think the clincher will be whoever can start soonest — like, today, even. We need someone here ASAP, especially since you nearly fell trying to just get in your wheelchair when I wasn’t around.”

“I trust your judgment, Jace. I’m going to go back to sleep, if I can.”

I wish I trusted my judgment as much as he does. He’s always been the expert at making decisions; I just carry them out, Jace thought as he trotted down the stairs. A ring at the door interrupted his mulling. Who’s that? We aren’t expecting anyone. It can’t be the applicant; it’s only 2 pm.

He opened the door to a young girl with a somewhat familiar face. “Hello, Jace. Can I come in?”

Jace’s furrowed brow finally relaxed in recognition. “Las Vegas! Lenor- no, BAMBI — wait, AUBREY! What the hell are you doin’ here? You look good!” Then he soured a little. “Wait. What the hell ARE you doin’ here?”

“I’m that applicant,” she said pointing to the fax he still grasped in his left hand.

“You? You’re the superstar aide that just graduated from Phoenix? Aw, hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Aubrey asked.

“Aubrey,” whined Jace, “Mr. B gave you a lot of money to turn things around. That was all he was gonna give you. If you’re here looking for more, you’re gonna be disappointed. The best thing you can do for him is to go make something of yourself. But not here. It’s against his policy. I know you and he had a ‘connection’ back in Vegas, but it’s over. I’m not going to let anyone take advantage of him — and there’s no way I can be sure that’s not what you’re here to do.”

“I understand, Jace, I really do. I expected this to be your response to me. Just please, read these, and then hear me out for five minutes. After that, if you want, you’ll never see me again.”

She handed some papers to Jace and he read over them. Sparkling letters of recommendation, multiple urine screens showing her free of illicit drugs, teacher evaluations littered with praise.

“Yeah. I believe you; this all sounds legit. But Aubrey, he was fond of you. And in his weakened state, he can be manipulated. So, the answer is no.”

“Read this; it’s a rider that I would demand added to the contract, should I be hired.”

Jace grumbled as he took the legal appearing form and scanned over it. Gradually his mouth went agape. “This says … that if you are employed by him, it would be on the condition that he never be allowed to give you any extra benefits or money, via bonuses, will, gifts, etc. etc.?”

“Right. So according to that, if I get — or even ask for — more money, or any favors, or anything that’s not outlined in the basic employment contract — it’s prohibited, and I’m fired.”

“It sounds like you’ve covered all the bases, but I dunno …”

“Jace. I need to be able to give something back to him, something more than just me living a good life. He’s dying, and I know how to take care of him — I’m one of the best there is. The best in my class, and according to my administrator, better than most working aides already out there. If you don’t like my work for any reason, fire me. You’ve got others you can replace me with. But he needs me, and I need to do this for him. And - I’m here ready to start right now. He saved my life. Let me make his more comfortable.”

Jace stared at her for an uncomfortable minute. “Let me talk with Mr. B,” he finally said, and headed up the stairs.

He came back down. “You’re hired, on a probationary basis. But I’ll be watching you. Let me show you to your quarters.”

“He’s agreed to let me be his CNA?” she squeaked with excitement.

“No, he’s still asleep. I’m hiring you. God help me if I’ve chosen wrong. God help you, too,” Jace muttered as he led her down the hall.

~o~O~o~

Grant Brisbane felt tired. And greasy. He was used to bathing every day, but it had been 48 hours since his in-bed bath by the visiting aide. This was one reason he wanted a live-in aide — daily bathing. Also helping with dressing, toileting … and maybe having someone nice to talk to. Jace was fine, but not the greatest conversationalist.

As he lay there with his eyes closed, he remembered his favorite “bath” ever. It was a hot washcloth washing from head to toe, administered by a transsexual named Bambi. Well, really Aubrey, but she was Bambi to him at that moment. If he concentrated enough, he could almost recall the hot moist towelettes wrapping around his feet, his ankles …

Goodness, my memory is really vivid today. It's almost as if I actually feel her bathing me again. Wait. That feels too real. It ... it IS real?

He opened his eyes. There was a blonde woman down at his feet, working his limbs in a familiar way with hot, steamy white washcloths.

“Madam? Are you my new aide?”

The blonde head turned, and he saw her face. “Hello, Mr. Brisbane. I remembered how much you liked this.”

“Aubrey! What … How?”

“I’m the aide that Jace hired. Top of my class, the best there is. And it’s all happened because of you, and your generous gift you sowed into my life. I thank God that I get to show you my gratitude in person. Just lay back, close your eyes, and let me minister to your body.”

“Madam — gladly. And please, call me Grant.”

“Sorry, sir. I am now your employee, and I should address you with respect, as the rest of your hires do.”

He felt gradually, gloriously fresh as she worked her way up his body. As she got to his chest, she stopped. “Mr. Brisbane — what is this lump here? I don’t remember seeing that on Valentine’s Day.”

“My combination pacemaker / defibrillator. It was implanted in early March. If my heart beats too slowly, the pacemaker speeds it up. If my heart stops — or goes into fibrillation — the defibrillator shocks me, just like those electric paddles that you see used in CPR.”

“Wow. That sounds painful, sir.”

“It hurts. But it keeps me alive. If you can call my current existence ‘living’, that is. Sometimes I’ll go days without a shock; on a really bad day, I’ll have multiple shocks.”

“Sir … is there any chance they could find a matching heart in time?”

“Oh, I suppose there’s always hope, theoretically,” Brisbane sighed. “But realistically, a heart like the one I would need may come along once every ten years or so. It’s not going to happen, Aubrey; I’ve had to accept that.”

Grant looked up to see his aide’s head turned away from him; she had a tissue and was obviously dabbing her eyes. She took a minute to compose herself, then she turned to him again, her eyes red but with a forced smile on her lips.

“Well, then. Whatever time you have, let’s make it as comfortable, and relaxing, and enjoyable as possible for you.” She resumed the washing with the cloths while they still were somewhat warm.

~o~O~o~

“Boss, I’m turning in for the night. Anything I can get you?” Jace stated with a stifled yawn.

“How about a live in-person performance by the Phoenix Symphony? I do so miss good, live music,” Grant sighed.

The big bodyguard’s voice actually started to crack a little. “Boss … I’m sorry. I … I don’t know what to do to help. I feel so useless to you.”

“Please, Jace. You are the best employee I’ve ever had. Where would I be without your help? I’m … I’m just feeling a little lonely is all. Go to bed, my friend. I’ll be fine.”

“Um … Mr. Brisbane? Can I come in? I have something for you.” It was Aubrey’s voice speaking through the slightly cracked bedroom door. She opened it, and stuck her head in timidly.

“Hey, Aub. You’re off duty, aren’t you?” said Jace.

“You know I am, Jace — you wrote up my contract.” Aubrey was to work tending personally to Mr. Brisbane’s personal needs for four hours in the morning and four more in the afternoon, as well as being “on call” for any emergencies that might arise after hours. For that, she got a modest salary, room and board, and medical insurance. Her evenings were free for the most part, though it was recommended she stay available in the estate unless she was at one of her SA or SARP meetings. “I’m here on my own time. I thought Mr. Brisbane would enjoy some music.”

Grant saw a blonde thick chested girl in a black satin blouse and black dress slacks with matching pumps walk in. She carried a music stand and a case with a handle. Sitting down, she placed some sheet music on the stand, lifted her viola to her neck and began playing an easy but beautiful piece, Bach’s Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring. She followed that with a selection from Mozart’s Eine Kleine Nachtmusik.

Jace watched, impressed. She was no virtuoso, but she wasn’t bad. How did she know that the boss had wanted something like this tonight?

Grant clapped as she finished, blushing. “I’m sorry I don’t have more for you — these are the two that I started practicing down in Phoenix. They’ve always made me feel relaxed. And as I cleaned the room today, I saw you wistfully watching the Mahler concert on PBS, and say that you wished you weren’t just listening to a recorded show.”

“Wow, Aub. You picked that up from just a random wish Mr. B made?” Jace said.

“Successful people are great listeners,” smiled Aubrey.

~o~O~o~

Two days later, as Aubrey was in her lavender scrubs giving Mr. Brisbane a pedicure, a strange woman walked in. Strange, because she wore a stethoscope around her neck indicating she was a healthcare worker, but yet she had on a tie-dye T-shirt and some jeans with peace symbol patterns “bedazzled” onto them.

“Hello, Grant!” Her eyes beamed through her auburn bangs, and her straightened red hair tickled her shoulder tops.

Aubrey sat up. “Hello … who are you?”

“I’m Jeannette Baumgartner, Grant’s hospice nurse. And I’ll bet you are his new live-in aide! Good to meet you!”

“Yes. I’m Aubrey.”

“Hello, Jeannette,” croaked a weak patient from his bed. “Sorry that I didn’t introduce you two.”

“We’re two grown women, Grant. We know how to meet each other, and you sound like you need to save your breath anyway.”

“You should address him as Mr. Brisbane,” Aubrey whispered to her.

Grant caught that. “Jeannette is not my direct employee, my dear. And I have requested that she call me by my first name. I still wish you would, too; at the very least, in the evenings. I consider you a friend who is also my hired CNA; so when the CNA is ‘off duty’, just address me as Grant, friend.”

“Jace never calls you that.”

“The stick-in-the-mud,” Grant sighed.

“Okay, my turn,” crooned Jeannette. “I’m going to call your doc with an update after I leave here, so dish. Any worsening of the chest pains or shortness of breath in the last few days? Are you being ‘zapped’ more by your defibrillator?”

Jeannette worked smoothly and quickly, taking a listen to his heart and lungs and feeling his limbs for swelling. As she did, she was cheerful and joking, and Grant responded to her attitude with a huge smile and even a laugh or two.

Aubrey was impressed. I guess I thought a ‘hospice’ nurse would be somber and depressed, like a funeral director in scrubs. But she’s lifting his spirits and making him feel better — which I guess would mean she’s doing her job well.

As if on cue, though, Jeannette’s demeanor suddenly became more serious. “I brought what you asked for, sir.” From her nurses’ bag she pulled out what appeared to be a large plastic “O” — about the size of a donut — and laid it on the bedside table with a heavy “CLUNK”.

“Ah — the deactivator.” Grant sighed again, and looked away.

“The what?” Aubrey didn’t like the sound of that.

The nurse took the CNA’s hand. “It’s basically a big, strong magnet,” she said. “It will stop the defibrillator from shocking him and restarting his heart.”

Aubrey felt her chest grow numb, and her arms and legs suddenly chilled. “Why the hell does he need something like that?” she whispered almost inaudibly.

“Dear. Don’t curse at Jeannette,” chided Grant weakly.

“It’s okay, Grant. I think she was saying it to the situation, not to me,” intervened the red haired woman. “It’s only to be used at the very end. When his heart is irreversibly stopping, then his defibrillator will shock him repeatedly to try to start it up again. If the heart still won’t respond — and when it’s really the end, it won’t — then he’ll be shocked over and over until the battery runs out, and that will be the last sensation he feels in life: shocks. This magnet will prevent that; all that has to be done is to lay it over the pacer / defibrillator and keep it there. It has to be placed directly over that lump on his left chest to work; and if it’s taken off, then the defibrillator re-activates and the shocks start again.”

“The jolts are quite unpleasant,” remarked Grant. “If they start to happen more frequently, I may apply it early.”

Jeannette looked so sad now. “That’s … that’s up to you, sir.”

Aubrey was shaking, tears streaming down her cheeks. She opened her mouth as if to interject her opinion, but only jerking sobs came out. Covering her face with her hands, she ran from the room.

“Jeannette — go catch her, please, and explain. I’m not trying to kill myself. I’m just so tired of the shocks,” moaned Mr. Brisbane.

The nurse took off to find the distraught aide.

Aubrey ran outside the front door of the estate and sprinted to the garage. As she approached the open bay, she choked out a “hello”; when no one answered, she let loose. Loud wails, that bent her body and threatened to tip her over into a fall, tore loose from her throat.

An agony unlike she had ever known had gripped her; not worse than the hell of the abuse in Vegas, just different. All she knew was that her savior was dying. He was suffering so badly that he didn’t want to live anymore, and she was helpless to stop it. “I’m useless! Worthless! A cheap, lousy whore-”

“No, you’re not,” said a firm but gentle voice, accompanied by a soft hand on Aubrey’s shoulder. “You’ve made a difference in his life. A huge difference. HUU-UUGE. You’ve brought a joy to him like none of the rest of us have been able to. What a wonderful gift to give to a man in his position, his condition.” Jeannette’s voice was reassuring, if a little breathy from running in pursuit of the girl.

The young girl shook her head as she continued to shed tears. “You don’t even know me — we just met. You’re telling pretty lies to make me feel better.”

“Yeah, I just met you face-to-face. But I contact Jace daily about Grant, and I’ve been nosy enough to inquire about the new aide taking care of him. You’re getting rave reviews, and all who know Mr. B have said he’s actually brightened since you came on. The mini-concert with the viola really touched him. There’s obviously some kind of connection you two have — not necessarily infatuation, but you seem to ‘get’ each other in some way. I could see that from the little bit I saw today.”

“Even if you’re right, Jeannette, it’s not enough. It tears me apart to hear him say that he’s suffering. And what are you doing? Giving him something so he can commit suicide? I thought euthanasia was illegal in Arizona!”

“Like I said, I brought it at his request, and it’s only to be used at the end, when the repeated shocks are doing nothing but torturing him. Used that way, it’s not even close to being euthanasia. I didn’t expect him to suggest he would use it before that point, though.”

“We need to hide it, then, so he won’t be tempted to use it too early.” Aubrey sniffed loud and wet. “Dammit. DAMMIT! It’s just so wrong. He’s only … only,” —she paused, realizing that she didn’t know Grant’s age.

“Forty-two,” Jeannette finished.

“My god. He looks at least ten years older!”

“That’s what a bad heart can make you look like. It’s aged his face as much as anything else.”

“Poor Grant. I feel so helpless. SHIT! … Sorry. Don’t you ever want to cuss over this situation?”

Jeannette smiled. “I don’t curse, sweetie. I pray, I cry, I punch my pillow, I moan, but I don’t curse. The closest I come is “darn”. If you EVER heard me curse, it would be as a last resort to get someone’s attention in an emergency. It’s just a personal conviction; I don’t judge you for doing so, though.”

Aubrey was red cheeked. “Sorry for cussing around you, anyway. I didn’t know.”

“Pshaw! Think nothing of it, sweetheart. Tell you what: let’s exchange cell phone numbers. That way I have another contact here, and you can call me if you have any questions or concerns — about anything, hear me? And now — if you’re ready, let’s go back and show Grant that you’re going to be okay.”

The two walked back to the house, holding onto — and leaning into — each other.

To be continued tomorrow

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to a real situation or person is purely coincidental.

Thanks to Cassie Nicol for a quick first look!

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Thanks for reading ... **Sigh**